


Stare Too Long At The Door That Is Closing

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Generation Kill, Hurt Locker (2008)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Character of Color, Crossover, Gen, Pre-Slash, YAGKYAS 21010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bravo 2 is struck by an IED, an Army EOD team suddenly appears to offer assistance. Nate struggles to hold it together while dealing with just how close he keeps coming to losing Brad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stare Too Long At The Door That Is Closing

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Stare Too Long At The Door That Is Closing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/729620) by [izumrudishe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izumrudishe/pseuds/izumrudishe)



> Thanks to templemarker for setting aside mod duties long enough to beta this in time for the deadline. I played very fast and loose with historical facts and canon for both GK and THL. As per OBA, Bravo 2’s time at Paige pre-dates the insurgency. They were also on stand down early on in their stay at Paige. In the end, this is a work of fiction, simply using borrowed characters.

Nate released a heavy sigh as he stepped into the oppressive shade of the car port. Protection from the sun was the only thing that made it cooler inside the structure. The concrete itself absorbed heat all day long and made sleeping inside at night impossible.

They’d been at Tactical Assembly Area Paige for weeks now, doing nothing. General consensus among junior officers was that the recent missions were intended to keep down the incidents of non-sparring fist fights and non-combat gunfire.

The Company had been camped in the car port since they’d arrived, the Humvees arranged herringbone fashion. Currently, his Platoon was gathered in and around their victors, cleaning weapons or trying to sleep in the stifling heat. Brad sat, cleaning his M4 – again – appearing relaxed as he lounged half-in, half-out of his seat. Their eyes met unerringly, as always, when Nate glanced over. Brad gave a barely perceptible lift of his chin. Nate acknowledged with the merest of smiles. Nate was enveloped in a pleasant warmth, a sensation he’d grown accustomed to since meeting Brad.

Nate took off his Kevlar as he reached the gun truck that had been his home for the last month and half. He ran a hand down his face, unable to shake the torpor that had settled over him in the last week.

“What’s the word, LT?” Mike asked, sliding from the driver’s seat.

“Yet another patrol,” Nate answered, taking a map from the webbing of his vest. Why did he feel like he was about to burst out of his own skin?

“Driving around in the desert to make sure the sand hasn’t changed?”

Mike joined Nate over the hood of the truck and they consulted the map. “Actually, there’s a small hamlet about ten klicks south of Paige they want us to investigate.” At least it meant _doing_ something.

“They’ve had a battalion of Marines camping at a Tactical Assembly Area and they’ve _just now_ decided the hamlet needs checking?”

Nate pressed his lips into a thin line. “There’ve been reports of suspicious movement. Personally, I think it’s going to be farmers making adjustments to their routines. Most likely in response to seasonal changes we’re unaware of.”

Mike followed the movement of Nate’s alcohol pen as he outlined the mission parameters. “Who you gonna send?” he asked.

“Colbert and Reyes had the first patrol. Espera and Lovell the second. I thought I’d break things up and send Colbert and Lovell this time.”

“Either way, you know they’ll get the job done.”

“I thought it might be a good idea if we accompanied them,” Nate said, avoiding Mike’s eyes. “They don’t need me looking over their shoulders. But it’s a good idea if I stay abreast of what they’re facing out there, what tactics they utilize.”

Mike spit tobacco into his ever-present water bottle. “It’s not a _bad_ idea.”

“For all the action they’ve seen recently, Stafford and Christeson are still pretty green,” Nate worked to keep his tone level. “They’d benefit from working with the more experienced Marines and we wouldn’t have to juggle team staffing.”

“Nate, you don’t have to justify your decision to go on a patrol with your men. You’re the fuckin’ Platoon Commander. If you want to go, then go.”

“You just want to get the fuck out of here for a little while.” Nate smiled at Mike knowingly.

“You’re goddamn right I do,” he admitted, returning Nate’s smile.

Something in Nate’s chest loosened. He hadn’t even realized it had tightened. “Espera can hold down things here in camp. I’ll stay on comms in the event I’m needed.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, Nate. How ‘bout we get this show on the road?”

“Gather the team leaders.”

“Bravo Two TL’s!” Mike bellowed. “Rally up on the command victor.”

Colbert, Reyes, Espera and Lovell quickly gathered around the hood of the truck, taking in the details of the map Nate had spread out. Brad came to stand directly beside Nate and leaned in close. Nate was so aware of Brad, the hairs on his arm stood at attention, sending a pleasant prickling sensation zinging through his system.

“Brad, you’re on point with Lovell covering,” Nate concluded, folding up the map. “Doc, ride along in Two-One-Alpha’s empty seat, just in case. Gentlemen, this time around, I’ll be joining your mission. Purely for observation, I assure you.”

“Next, you’ll be wiping my ass for me, LT.” Brad’s voice startled Nate with its proximity to his ear.

He drew breath to contradict Brad, reassure him that Nate had no intention of hand-holding.

Mike got there first. “The LT’s all grown up now, Brad. He knows which end of his weapon to aim down range. Let him have some fun, too.”

Nate swiveled his head in time to catch Mike’s smirk. Glancing back at Brad, he saw one side of his mouth lifted in a grin.

“All right, all right,” Nate interjected, appreciating the joke at his expense. “Stop mocking your Platoon Commander or I’ll NJP all your asses.”

“You heard the man,” Mike barked. “Be ready to step off in ten mikes.”

Nate was proud of his men when they were oscar-mike in seven.

In the end, Nate had been right about the hamlet. It turned out to be a farming collective, bringing in a meager harvest. When Nate called in his report, they were ordered to RTB.

He watched as Person drove Two-One’s victor carefully along the soft, sloping road. They were atop a berm, reeds and water on either side. A quick glance behind them showed Lovell’s team easily keeping pace. Nate could just hear Stafford and Christeson rapping in the back of the truck. He couldn’t help but consider the passing countryside beautiful.

When they were finally ordered to stand down, Nate wondered if the men would appreciate a tour of the ruins of ancient Babylon. They might be trained killers, but most of them were capable of a deep appreciation of beautiful things. He knew Brad, at least, would be interested and eager. As always, thoughts of Brad made Nate’s belly quiver pleasantly.  

The sound, when it came, was so loud it was deafening. The concussion stilled Nate’s breath in his chest and his mouth dropped open in a futile search for air. The truck rattled with the force of it. He gripped his weapon until his knuckles whitened, his other hand grasping at the dash of the truck.

Something had happened to the Humvee up ahead. Nate had seen a plume of smoke and a spray of dirt accompany the bone-jarring concussion. He just didn’t know what the fuck it was.

Nate rocked forward as Mike slammed on the breaks. Sounds were muffled, as if underwater.

“What the fuck?” Mike shouted.

Nate barely heard the dull thudding of Stafford and Christeson being tossed around the back of the truck. Their swearing mingled with Mike’s. There was no movement in Brad’s Humvee. Nate was vividly reminded of Alpha opening up on Brad and his men in the field. The longest moments of Nate’s life had been after that firefight, while he waited for Brad to get to his feet or answer his comm.

“Hitman-Two, this is Two-Three,” Lovell’s voice came through Nate’s headset. “What the fuck was that? What just happened?”

Nate had no fucking idea. He scrambled to gather his thoughts. He reached blindly for the key to his mic.

“This is Hitman-Two,” he answered. “Something happened to Two-One’s Humvee. Deploy and disperse your team to move forward with us to investigate.”

“Roger that,” Lovell acknowledged.

Brad’s Humvee sat at an odd angle, smoke coming from the grill. Hasser was slumped over the roof, unmoving, and Nate could see no movement from the men inside, either.

Nate’s heart lodged in his throat and nausea roiled through his belly. He willed Brad to climb out of the vehicle.

He slid out of his own victor and started to move forward, all attention focused on Brad’s door. Nate’s need to move forward, to reach the lead Humvee and get Brad out of danger, was as strong now as it had been during the ambush in the kill zone.

Nate’s forward progress was halted by two bodies standing in his way. He was vaguely aware of desert camouflage and Kevlar.

“Lieutenant, stay back till we check it out,” Stafford was saying, pressing against Nate’s chest.

“LT, you gotta stay safe till we know what happened.” Christeson had a hand on Nate’s shoulder.

“Stay with the truck, Nate,” Mike shouted. “Let ‘em clear it before you approach. This is your command.”

Mike’s words sank in and Nate stopped struggling against his men. He watched Mike move forward with Lovell’s team. They surrounded the smoking Humvee, weapons at the ready. Nate was suddenly lightheaded, fear gnawing at his gut. He struggled to control his breathing. 

“It looks like something on the road blew up when the vehicle drove over it,” Lovell called. “No signs of further threat.”

Nate was around Stafford and Christeson before he realized what he was doing. Brad’s door still hadn’t opened.

Nate reached the victor and gave the door a vicious pull. Brad was still in his seat, weapon gripped tight with both hands. His eyes were wide and unseeing, but he seemed unhurt. Nate grabbed the neck of Brad’s uniform and tugged hard.

“Get out of the vehicle, Brad,” he heard himself say, hardly recognizing his own voice.

Brad tumbled from his seat, somehow keeping his grip on his weapon. He fell to his knees, struggling to keep up with Nate’s attempts to get him away from the Humvee. At the edge of the berm, he helped Brad into a sitting position. He was more compliant than Nate was happy with. Brad’s eyes were still wide and blank.

Nate glanced back at the victor. Doc Bryan was moving around in the back seat. Ray was crawling across the console to exit through Brad’s door. Trombley and Hasser were both immobile. Lovell’s team was already working to get them both out.

“Doc, grab your gear and get your shit together,” Nate shouted. “You got wounded.”

When Dock Bryan stumbled from the Humvee, he didn’t look much better than Brad did, but he was rallying. He reached back for his pack, then managed to crawl his way to Brad and Nate.

“What the fuck was that, LT?” Brad asked, voice rough. He was blinking rapidly, as if to clear away the cobwebs in his head.

“No fuckin’ idea, Sergeant,” Nate replied. Relief unfurled inside him as Brad seemed to be returning to himself.

“Contact, twelve o’clock,” a Marine shouted.

All weapons pointed toward the road they had been traveling down. A dust plume was visible behind a fast approaching vehicle.

“They’re friendly,” Lovell called, glassing it with his scope. “Looks like an Army Humvee.”

Relief coursed through Nate; they wouldn’t have to engage an enemy after taking such a heavy hit from … something.

“Somebody give me a sitrep,” Nate yelled, still kneeling in the dirt in front of Brad and knowing he shouldn’t be. “Gunny? Lovell?”

Mike came around the rear of the damaged vehicle. Nate glanced again at the cautiously approaching Army Humvee.

“Person’s fine, just a little rattled,” Mike said. “Trombley and Hasser are both unresponsive. Lovell’s team is getting them out so Doc can assess them.”

“Keep an eye on our inbound friendlies,” Nate ordered. “Make sure they really are friendlies.”

“Roger that.”

“Any idea what the fuck happened?”

“Looks like some sort of explosive device embedded in the road, maybe. Not sure.”

Nate nodded acknowledgement, then turned his attention back to Brad.

Doc was putting items back into his pack, albeit more slowly than he usually did.

“Colbert’ll be fine, LT,” Bryan said before Nate had to ask. “He’s shook up from being at ground zero. His ears will ring for awhile, but he’ll be fine.”

“Go see to Hasser and Trombley,” Nate said, with a lift of his chin. Then he keyed his mic. They were going to need a bird for a cas-evac.

Nate was giving their grid coordinate for the helo when the Army Humvee rolled to a stop. Three soldiers, dressed in flack vests and Kevlar, carrying M-16s, exited the vehicle.

Nate felt Brad’s hand close over his own. He looked down and realized he’d been holding onto the shoulder of Brad’s uniform this entire time. He almost pulled his hand back, until he realized Brad’s grip on him was tight. Nate couldn’t see his face, Brad’s head hung heavily between his shoulders.

It seemed they both needed another minute or two.

The soldiers approached Lovell, who nodded in Nate’s direction. They gave the Humvee a cursory look.

“Lt. Fick?” one soldier asked, approaching Nate, the other two following in his wake. “I’m Sgt. James. This is my team, Sgt. Sanborn and Specialist Eldridge. We’re an EOD Unit.”

Explosive Ordinance Disposal. Apparently, just what they needed, right when they needed it. Nate’s relief weakened his knees. He really wasn’t in the mood to just make do.

“Glad to see you gents,” Nate said, giving Brad’s shoulder a final squeeze and standing up to do his fucking job. “Any idea what happened to my men and their vehicle?”

“Very recently, Humvees have been getting blown up by crude homemade bombs left on or beside roads. They ain’t fancy, but they can be deadly. They’re improvising with what they have on hand – disguising them as things you see every day - even debris from the invasion.”

“Trash,” Ray said, from behind Sgt. James.

“What was that, Person?” Nate demanded.

“There was a pile of trash in the road,” Ray said, his gaze distant, as if remembering. “I just drove right over it.”

Silence met his admission.

“Fuck, LT. We been drivin’ over blown up shit and dead bodies almost the whole time we been in this fuckin’ country.”

“You’re right, Ray,” Nate agreed. “You couldn’t have known.”

“You got a bird on the way, LT?” Doc Bryan shouted.

“That’s affirmative,” Nate answered, seeing Doc kneeling between the unconscious forms of Trombley and Hasser. “How’re they doing?” He had men down and they should be his focus. Instead, Nate couldn’t stand to have more than a few inches between himself and Brad.

“Trombley’s coming around but he’s disoriented,” Doc shouted over his shoulder. “Hasser is still out cold.”

“Fuck,” Nate swore, wondering where the fuck the cas-evac was. They weren’t that far from Paige.

“Lieutenant,” Sgt. James said. “You got your hands full with your men. I’m gonna crawl down in that hole and make sure there aren’t any nasty surprises still down there. I’ll also check your Humvee to make sure it can be dragged out and driven back.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Nate replied, letting his gratitude show plainly.

“Sir,” Sgt. Sanborn said. “If you guys can just watch our backs,” he nodded in the direction they had traveled from. “Me and Eldridge can keep an eye out this way while James is in the hole. We’ll have you squared away and outta here in no time.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Nate liked that plan. He sent Stafford and Christeson to watch the road from Lovell’s abandoned Humvee.

Beside Nate, Brad was struggling to his feet. Nate gripped his bicep to help him.

“Gotta check my men,” Brad muttered.

“Doc’s got ‘em,” Nate replied. “Check yourself, Sergeant. You’re still a bit shaky.”

Brad’s eyes were still saucer-wide and he was weaving on his feet.

“My ears are ringing,” Brad said absently.

“Doc said they would for awhile.” Nate’s concern spiked. He wondered if the ringing had prevented Brad from hearing Doc’s pronouncement, or if he had a more serious head injury that was fucking with memory.

“I’m not putting the suit on.”

Nate glanced up at the sound of the EOD Sergeant’s voice.

“James, you’re gonna climb down into a hole where somethin’ just exploded. You gotta put on the suit.”

Sgt. James had stripped down to his trousers and tee shirt. He wore a pair of fingerless gloves. Sgt. Sanborn held the large, heavy looking coat for, what Nate could only assume, was the bomb suit.

“The suit is big and heavy. I can’t get in or out of the hole wearing that fuckin’ thing.”

“And if there _is_ an unexploded secondary device in there, you’re not gonna have any protection.”

James didn’t answer Sanborn. Instead, he turned to the Specialist. “Hand me my kit, Eldridge.”

“Here’s your kit, Sgt. James,” Eldridge said, handing over a leather pouch of tools.

“Crazy fucker,” Brad said quietly, as they watched Sgt. James approach the hole.

“And you thought I was nuts,” Ray said.

“LT!” Doc yelled. “Where’s that bird?”

 _Fuck_ _._ Nate called for an update on their cas-evac. Too many wounded in a war supposedly already won. Over-taxed resources. At least another ten mikes.

Doc just shook his head in disgust when Nate delivered the bad news.

“James, what’s your status?” Sanborn called over his shoulder as he and Eldridge kept their weapons pointed up the road. “James, what the fuck is goin’ on?” he shouted with more force when James didn’t immediately answer.

“Lieutenant,” Sgt. James called as he climbed out of the hole beneath the Humvee. “You’ve got an unexploded secondary device in that crater. You’re gonna want to move your men back.”

Everyone moved at once. Nate and Mike began to bark orders. Brad retrieved his Kevlar and his M4. Person darted forward and grabbed the back of Hasser’s blouse and began to drag him away from the damaged Humvee and toward the command truck. Doc followed with his fist in Trombley’s blouse. Lovell ordered his men to cover the small retreat.

Nate moved forward to talk with the EOD team.

“Lieutenant,” Sgt. Sanborn approached him. “I’d advise you to turn that gun truck sideways and use it for cover. Tuck your Humvee up on the other side of it. Get your men behind the tires of the truck and into the spare Humvee to avoid flying shrapnel if this thing goes off, sir.”

“Good advice, Sergeant,” Nate replied. He turned to order Mike to see to the changes.

“I don’t expect we’re gonna have any trouble,” Sanborn continued. “Sgt. James is a stubborn, crazy fucker, but he’s good at this. Sir.” he added the last as if he’d suddenly realized he’d spoken his thoughts out loud.

“Understood, Sergeant,” Nate acknowledged. He knew the type.

“We’ll let you know when it’s all clear.”

Nate moved to join his men behind the gun truck. As he walked, he updated their status with Paige, advising to hold the cas-evac until the ordinance was cleared.

Hasser and Trombley were laid out behind the front tire of the command truck, Doc knelt between them, monitoring. Brad was propped against the rear tire. Mike stood on the step of the truck, using the reinforced cab for cover.

“Everybody into the Humvee,” Nate ordered the rest of the men. “You don’t have to be comfortable, just get your feet off the ground and behind some sort of shield in case we have another explosion.”

He watched as his men all piled into the vehicle. Nate dropped down to sit beside Brad, back up against the oversized truck tire. “Put your Kevlar on, Sergeant,” he said quietly, wanting Brad as protected as possible in the event of a second blast.

Brad slowly strapped his Kevlar back onto his head.

Nate leaned back against the tire and closed his eyes. Nothing to do now but wait until the EOD team was done.

 _Fuck_ but that had been close.

“Just give me my cans,” Nate heard Sgt. James say.

“You’re not just checkin’ the hole this time. You gotta put on the suit to disarm a device,” Sanborn replied heatedly.

“Same hole. Still can’t climb in our out wearing the suit.” James’ reply was matter-of-fact.

“Fine. You get your nuts blown off, don’t fuckin’ complain to me about it.”

“Hey, guys? Can we get on with this so we aren’t sittin’ in the middle of an open road where we can get our asses shot at?” Eldridge intervened like a middle child trying to broker a peace.

“Watch your sector, Specialist,” James ordered. “I’m goin’ in.”

The banter, so like his own men, soothed Nate’s frayed nerves. Still, he couldn’t help but replay those terrifying moments in his head.

The deafening explosion, the plume of smoke from beneath Brad’s victor, the way it swerved and dipped into the newly opened crater. Brad’s initial lack of movement had turned Nate’s blood to ice. His wide eyes and dazed expression had been like a solid punch to Nate’s gut.

“How’re you feeling, Brad?” Nate asked, keeping his voice low.

“Better, sir.” Nate was reassured by Brad’s reply.

This was the closest he’d come, yet, to losing Brad. Not that Brad was his to lose, and that was really what had Nate scared and shaking. Losing a Marine of Brad’s caliber would be a tragedy for the Corps and for Nate’s command. But, it was the idea of a missed opportunity that had Nate in a tailspin.

To try and fail at least held honor. To pussy-out from fear was unacceptable.

“Hey, Sanborn,” Nate heard Specialist Eldridge call. “You know what you have in common with a car?”

“No, what’s that?” Sanborn asked.

“You both have the ability to misfire.”

“Ha fucking ha, Eldridge.”

“That was a close fucking call,” Nate said to Brad.

“Closer than some. Not nearly as close as others,” Brad replied.

“It’s not acceptable to watch you get taken out by a road side bomb _after_ we’ve supposedly won the fucking war.”

“Then I’m glad I’m not the one responsible for stripping away the final shreds of your idealism, sir.”

Nate whipped his head around and he stared hard at Brad. The words were enigmatic and softly spoken. In Nate’s experience, that was when he most needed to pay attention to Brad.

“Hey, Sanborn.” Nate heard again.

“What, Eldridge?” Sanborn sounded as though his patience was limited.

“What do you call a gay dinosaur?”

“I dunno, Specialist.”

“Mega-saur-ass.”

“Shut the fuck up, Eldridge.”

Nate smiled. Sanborn sounded more amused than angry.

“I’m not an idealist,” Nate picked up the thread of his conversation with Brad.

“Of course not, sir.”

“Idealism has no place in the Corps.”

“You realize that _now_.”

Nate continued to watch Brad closely, struggling to gauge his mood and his meaning.

“Try to hang on to part of it, sir. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”

Nate didn’t know what to do with that information. Here, he’d been struggling to maintain Brad’s respect in him, and now he finds he’d had a measure of _admiration_ , all along.

“James. Hey, James.” Nate heard Sgt. Sanborn call out. “What’s your status?”

Nate heard no reply forthcoming. He chanced a quick glance around the tire toward the crater.

“Come on, James. We’re sittin’ out here in the open, easy targets for the bastards that set these fuckin’ things. Time to get a move on.”

Sgt. James’ only answer was the fist that appeared over the rim of the blast crater, middle finger extended.

Nate ducked back behind the tire with a chuckle. He turned to share the incongruous humor with Brad, but got no further than an indrawn breath.

Brad was looking right at him.

“Thanks for dragging me out of the victor, sir,” Brad said. “I was a little out of it for awhile.”

“You’re welcome,” Nate replied. Platitudes about just doing his job and looking out for all of his men weren’t going to fly with Brad.

“I’d like to make it out of here in once piece. I still have things I want to do.”

“Understood.”

Brad didn’t look away and Nate found he couldn’t either. His blood roared in his own ears.

“Lieutenant Fick,” Sgt. James called. “You’re all clear.”

Glancing around the tire again, Nate saw James waving him forward, a heavy headset in one hand, and something metal in the other.

Nate leapt to his feet and immediately keyed his mic to get the cas-evac bird enroute once again.

James hooked his headset over his elbow so he could light a cigarette. As Nate approached, he held up a piece of cylindrical metal. “That’s your detonator. Fuckin’ thing was a hollowed out artillery shell, filled with plastic explosive and shrapnel.” James took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke upward. His eyes were those of a man coming down from a very big high. “It was wired to go up at the same time the primary device did. Your men are lucky our guy is a shitty bomb maker. Sir.”

“For which I am grateful,” Nate said, turning toward the sound of an inbound chopper. “Thank you for your help, Sgt. James.”

“Just in the right place at the right time, sir. You’re clear to yank your Humvee outta the hole. Good luck, Lieutenant.” James executed a casual salute, respect for Nate’s officer status, but also acknowledging their different branches of service.

Nate returned the salute in kind.

“Mount up, Sanborn,” James shouted over the growing thump of the cas-evac chopper. “We’re outta here.”

Doc got Hasser and Trombley loaded onto the bird. Mike used the gun truck to yank Brad’s Humvee out of the hole. To their collective surprise, it was drivable.

Together, they limped back into Paige.

The next day, Bravo Two’s card on the board was flipped to red and their ammunition was collected. They were going home soon.

Nate was thrilled when his entire Platoon eagerly accompanied him on the tour of the ancient ruins of Babylon. At some point, he found himself to the rear of the group, alone except for Brad.

“Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be known as Brad the Great,” Brad quipped.

Nate chuckled. “Well, maybe not to the public at large.”

Brad fell silent and Nate feared he’d gone too far.

“What are your plans once we’re stateside, LT?” Brad asked quietly. “If I may inquire.”

Nate had been giving this a lot of thought. “Take a long hot shower and make sure the sand is out of _everywhere_. Eat. A lot. Things like pizza and big, oversized hamburgers. I’d like to think I’m going to catch up on my sleep, but something makes me seriously doubt that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“Have to say I agree,” Brad concurred as they slowly walked side by side. “Any interest in possibly sharing one or two of those meals? With me.”

Nate’s heart leapt straight into his throat. Brad’s question was innocuous, but he was working hard at not looking in Nate’s direction. Nate was very interested in sharing more than a few meals with Brad, and a couple of those long, hot showers. Not to mention a few activities in bed that would lead to them not catching up on their sleep anytime soon.

“Yeah,” Nate replied slowly. “Yeah, there’s interest.”

“Glad to hear it, sir. I’d hate to think I made it all the way through this goat-roping and couldn’t finish up that list of things I want to do.”

“I would hate to have any part in you not being able to complete that list.” Nate chanced a smile in Brad’s direction.

Nate was surprised to find himself manhandled into a shallow alcove, out of sight of the rest of the Platoon. Brad was huge and heavy, his body pressing tight against Nate’s. He looked down with intent and Nate knew there would be no escape until Brad willed it.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not interested in a couple of lunches to reminisce about our time in theater. I’ve come very close to dying three times in the last month and I have no intention of wasting time becoming an anecdote.”

Nate’s mouth was dry. “I didn’t drag you out of a blown up Humvee just to share a couple of beers when we get home.”

The look in Brad’s eyes shifted and his jaw unclenched. He nodded once. “Solid copy, sir.”

Brad backed away and slowly stepped out of the alcove. He moved off to rejoin the group, leaving Nate to pick up the pieces of his composure.

He sighed heavily and let his head fall to the wall behind him. Nate knew he was playing with fire. DADT and fraternization could both bite him in the ass.

An idea that had been a vague shadow in the deepest recesses of his brain began to coalesce and take solid shape.

Maybe it was time for Nate to escape with those final shreds of idealism intact.


End file.
